Heart of Stone - Stone and Fire #1 [17+] (REWRITING)

Chapter 27

my fingers hurt

Adriana's POV

Clubbing had to be one of the seven wonders of the world.

Either that, or grinding against strangers and losing my voice to a Billboard Top Ten Single was a boring, nonsensical way of processing my very much eventful and soul-churning past.

Me and Layla sat in Nikolas's driveway, smoking my cliche pack of Marlboro's while my window lay half-open and became a second doorway for the smoke to curl up into the night sky.

I didn't care if Nikolas saw.

I didn't care if his fist was itching to hit me with a knocker. Knowing how my body reacted to him, I'd probably fucking enjoy it.

I bet Nikolas would enjoy me dying, anyways. Seeing me choke and bustle like a runaway train while my lungs suffocated themselves with smoke.

'Die For You' by Chase Atlantic raved in the car's background as I blew out a puff, one black-painted foot up against the dashboard.

"Please forget I'm here and drive back to your house."

She muffled a laugh, waving away my smoke as if it was an annoyance far beyond her abilities to brush off. "The smoke detectors would go off without you even being inside. Take a chill pill on the nicotine, will you?"

I sighed dramatically, leaning back into the soft leathered seat. "Oh, Lay. I wish pills were enough to keep me from going insane."

She scoffed, reaching for her buzzing phone in the cup holder.

My eyes flickered across the screen and I did a double-take rereading the caller ID.

"Grim Reaper? Who the fuck is that?" I peered over, waiting for her to pick up, but she didn't.

Instead, she threw me a nervous side-glance and tucked it in her purse.

I rose a brow, suspicious as ever. Layla, hiding a man's contact? Consider my interest peaked.

"You wanna tell me who that is, or wait until I force Mikhail to find out?"

She groaned, giving me one of those infamous eye-rolls that told me I was great at testing her stubbornness. I was the block of hot cinder, while she was the cloth that snuffed me out. Since we were little, each memory of us together is held in the back of my head in a safe worth more than millions of dollars of gold, because she is the one person that, amidst everything, holds onto my arm and pulls me to where I'm supposed to go.

Every right decision I've made in my life is because of her. A bold statement, but truer than anything else I've ever said. Even a measly "yes" to marrying Nikolas Volkov.

"She's-"

"He," I corrected, sitting up straight now. I was invested now. Plus, dating? While she had a man in his deathbed? Even I knew the Cosa Nostra wouldn't take it lightly.

She cleared her throat, refusing to look at me. "He's my enemy, if anything. We're not talking."

I glanced at the vibrating phone. "Mhm. So why, pray tell, is he calling you during the wee hours of three a.m?"

She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. Defeat lined her otherwise floaty voice. "I'm tired of being abstinent."

My eyes went wide as saucers. "You're fucking him?"

She glanced at me and then looked away just as quick, with a red blush glazing her entire face. Was she.. ashamed? I put my hands up. "Hey. No judgement here. I've been wanting to see Nikolas's dick since I moved in."